


2(2)Tango

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Asexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ami and Zoisite take the next big step in their relationship. </p><p>No, not that step. They're never taking that step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2(2)Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Notes to follow, my computer is having some personal issues. In the meantime: While I tend not to use pocket universes that have rules that would require a lot of backstory to work, this is one. The general concept is that the Shitennou have been revived for several years.
> 
> Happy Ace Awareness Week!
> 
> EDIT: I have a loaner computer!
> 
> So the idea behind this little pocket universe is that, the Shitennou having been revived, Ami and Zoisite had to work together as colleagues on the supercomputer that powers Crystal Tokyo--Zoisite's better with the kind of computer work involved, but Ami is the trustworthy one. A lot of infrastructure gets destroyed in the fight that creates Crystal Tokyo, so it's to their advantage both politically and as a humanitarian matter of course to have that system already in place so all they have to do is flip a switch to keep the world from losing all electricity and running water overnight.
> 
> During that partnership they became attracted, but Ami put Zoisite off because she was an unidentified asexual. After his second or third attempt at flirting she finally tells him not to ask anymore because she "can't," and he asks if it's because of her duty as a Senshi or because of his own past. She tells him the truth in the vocabulary she has--Ami is smart but has, in fact, never heard of human asexuality--and while Zoisite doesn't identify her as "asexual" he recognizes the general disinclination toward sex and names it in the Elysian language. Realizing that she has his support, Ami accepts a first date. 
> 
> As yet, Ami hasn't come out to the Senshi, not because she distrusts them but because she's still coming to terms with being comfortable enough with herself to answer their inevitable questions.

“I've been told by Jadeite that if I don't tell you I kick in my sleep and offer to bail to to the sofa right now, I deserve to get dumped in the morning.”

Ami starts laughing. It's probably because it's late, and her nerves are on edge; she doesn't _mind_ accommodating a request to be a plus-one, but there aren't many things she finds more draining than other people. A plot the Dark Kingdom never tried: an introverts' convention.

Zoisite's shower helped. Zoisite's shower helped _a lot_. Sometimes it's good to date someone spoiled.

“I'll be fine. You can't be worse than Usagi.”

Zoisite plops down behind her. Ami can see their reflection in the mirror over the back of the bureau. Her hair is damp; his, after about twenty minutes of nonstop white noise from the bathroom, is dry.

He's also wearing a tee-shirt that definitely belongs to his day wardrobe. Ami remembers something he said once about nightclothes in Elysian and realizes he probably hasn't got any, and suddenly feels profoundly grateful.

“I found a pair of sweats in my bottom drawer,” he says. “If you want more than a shirt.”

Ami considers. Then she shakes her head. “I'm fine, thank you.” She scoots back far enough to lean on him, closes her eyes. “Do you think you got it?”

“I hope so. Living off Beryl's money got old after two months.”

“You're almost doing it on your own,” Ami points out. As yet, nobody's questioned the bankcard in a dead woman's name, and as far as Ami can tell, all of the money accessible with it is legitimate—as legitimate as the superfluous funds gathered through evil plots could be, at least.

She's decided that using the money to build new lives for four men intent on serving the cause of justice cancels out how it was earned, because trying to sort through it otherwise hurts her brain. 

“I've been 'almost' doing it on my own for three years. That's old too.” Zoisite tucks her hair behind her ears. “Thank you.”

“It was fun.”

“You're a terrible liar.”

“I was happy to leave,” she admits. “But it _was_ fun. It's a good thing we didn't take Usagi, she'd still be there.”

“Getting drunk and trying to play computer demos,” Zoisite comments. “Because she doesn't know any better.”

“Because it's not often that she can go places with people so antisocial they might not actually know who she is,” Ami suggests. “They're ready to forgive you, you know. They've been for a long time.” She ponders. “They forgave you before I did.”

“Maybe so. Let's not talk about the King and Queen tonight.”

Ami curls her toes in Zoisite's blanket. Like his shower, it's a ridiculous luxury he'd staunchly defend as “necessary” if asked—perfectly warm, she's sure, although she's never been under it; and so soft she wants to put together a joke about leaving him for his bed. But she's tired, and it falls apart halfway between her tongue and her brain. “I really hope you got it.”

“If I did, I'm going to start owing Miss Mooneyes.”

Ami smiles. “I don't think Minako actually means to hold you to that.”

“A person's only as good as their oath.” Zoisite lets go of her waist to pull down the covers. “You can sit out here and freeze if you like. I'm going to bed.”

“It's not freezing. And the cold doesn't bother me.” She slips under the covers anyway and lets out a soft _oh_. “You're going to have to kick me out of here tomorrow.”

“Or we could lay here and eat fruit and I can code.” Zoisite buries his face in her hair and curls up against her back. “That's really all I brought you back here for. If I needed a cook I'd seduce the scary one.”

“Mako _isn't scary,_ Zoisite.”

“She's never tried to take your head off.”

“You were fighting us at the time, I thought we agreed to let—“

“I mean when I asked you to dinner. I thought I'd be showing up in an ambulance.”

“Try not to hold it too much against her, she's had some pretty terrible experiences.”

“So I gathered.” The arm around Ami's waist lifts and the lights go out. The switch is across the room, but she's long since gotten used to things as mundane as how Zoisite's lights work. She rolls over and maneuvers until she's not laying on his arm and tangles her fingers in his hair. 

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Getting a cab at this hour is murder.”

It's not, but _please_ and _thank you_ are words Zoisite has trouble learning in any language, and Ami learned Zoisitese long before she ever accepted his offer to dinner. She closes her eyes.

“I don't know what I'm going to tell the girls tomorrow.”

“About?”

“Staying over.”

“None of their business.”

“If I say that, Mako really _will_ try to rearrange your limbs.”

“Tell them the truth, then.”

Ami shifts and sighs. “I could. I'm just being a coward, I suppose. I don't want to hear what they're going to say.”

“They're going to love you no matter what you tell them.” Zoisite tries to curl around her. She's grown since the days when they found themselves on opposite sides, but he hasn't, and Ami starts out smiling and finishes up giggling as he tries to invent a pose that involves seeming bigger than her when he's a good four inches shorter. 

Zoisite knees her in the thigh just hard enough for her to knee back— _keep your legs to yourself_ —and Ami thinks, suddenly, of a fragment of conversation from six months ago, Zoisite at the Crystal Palace requesting that Mamoru honor his intention to make good before taking up the name of Zoisite of the Shitennou once again, pulling Ami aside during a dance that night. _I have my hand, and always have,_ he'd said, when she'd confessed her secret and buried her face in her handkerchief before she could meet his gaze or cry into smears the eyeliner Rei'd so carefully applied for her. _I can gain a companion and still have my hand. Anyone who can do figures knows that's not a loss._

She closes her eyes and smiles.

“I suppose,” she says, “I could tell them what you told me.”

“What?”

“We spent the night doing basic math.”


End file.
